


Fate Is Just A Four Letter Word

by dbw



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbw/pseuds/dbw
Summary: This story starts during part one of the series finale -- at the end of Connor Mason's toast to Flynn. Turns out Lucy isn't willing to let Flynn rot in 2012, not when she has a time machine with an autopilot at her disposal.A fix-it of sorts for the series finale.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Rufus Carlin/Jiya
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> It took me almost year before I could bring myself to watch the Timeless series finale (the two-part "The Miracle at Christmas"). I found a lot of both the plot choices and the character choices to be...problematic. The most egregious offense, for me, was what the writers did to Garcia Flynn. I know they were trying to wrap everything up in a nice package in an effort to please the fans, but frankly I would have preferred that they left more plot and character threads open. 
> 
> It's been awhile since I've written fanfic, but this took hold and just wouldn't let go. So, here's one version of what could have been. For this fic I chose to assume everything is canon up to the point of Connor's toast to Flynn...

Connor Mason raised his glass to finish the toast. It seemed somehow fitting to use Flynn’s first name in saluting his sacrifice. “To Garcia.”

They all -- sans Lucy -- drank to their fallen comrade; their mood appropriately solemn and sober. Afterwards no one seemed inclined to linger. Connor stayed behind in the kitchen area as the others said their goodnights and Agent Christopher left for home.

He poured himself another dram of scotch.

He thought he’d become inured to the changes that invariably occurred each time history shifted. Granted, it was easier when those changes happened to historical events and distant facts. This time, however, they were more immediate and deeply personal.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that the team’s interactions since they exited the Lifeboat contrasted sharply with his memories of the way things were between them prior to the jump. Perhaps that was why neither he nor Agent Christopher had pushed them for many details beyond the bare facts of the mission.

Connor rolled his shoulders to ease the tightness in his chest. He knew -- _knew_ \-- for a fact that Jessica Logan had always died in 2012, that Jiya had never been abducted -- nor had she spent three years in Chinatown -- and that Rufus had _never_ been killed ( _and thank God for that_ ). Just as he _knew_ Wyatt and Lucy had been living together as a couple for the past several months.

Only, none of those things were actually true for Jiya, Wyatt, or Lucy, were they? They’d lived an entirely different reality, and their memories were of that reality, not this one. Still, for purely selfish reasons he had to believe that a timeline where Rufus didn’t die was infinitely preferable to one in which he did.

Then there was this alleged visit from future versions of Wyatt and Lucy. How was that even possible? Yet there was something so tantalizingly familiar about it, like a dream barely glimpsed in the moments before waking that slipped like smoke through his fingers when he reached for it.

Connor downed his scotch.

He detested this particular side-effect of time travel. Once, he’d been fascinated to dabble in the no-longer-just-philosophical questions on the nature of reality, but that had quickly soured. Now, as the fabric of reality warped and tampered with his mind, he just felt violated.

Indeed, that begged the question, what was worse? To find out after the fact that your memories had been changed without your realizing it? Or to come home to find that the reality you’d lived, with the memories you’d made and still had, was now null and void because a new reality had taken its place?

He grabbed the bottle of scotch and the untouched drink from the tray and headed for the Lifeboat. He was tired of drinking alone.

Lucy sat on the rolling stairs, flipping the pages of the journal as if she could force it to reveal some arcane truth. She glanced up when he cleared his throat.

Connor held out her drink and said, “You look like you could use this.” He poured another for himself and carefully set the bottle on an upper tread.

Lucy gave him a half-smile, and downed the scotch in two long swallows. “You’re right. I did need that.”

He sipped his own drink. “Can I pour you another?”

“Why not? This is difficult to read sober.” She held up the journal. “Maybe alcohol will help.”

He splashed some scotch into her glass, then put his own glass on the stairs next to the bottle and said, “May I?”

She placed the journal -- a bit reluctantly, he thought -- in his hand.

He riffled the pages, stopping randomly to read the occasional entry. Disturbing in places, shockingly intimate in others, he began to understand why Flynn had been obsessed with it. Finally, he closed it and handed it back. He reached for his drink. “I see what you mean. It’s all rather puzzling, isn’t it?”

“How so?”

“Some of the entries are obviously for missions we -- _you_ \-- have actually experienced. Though of course, I can’t vouch that the descriptions in the journal exactly match what you lived through?” When she shrugged, he continued, “There seem to be a lot of entries for missions you haven’t taken yet.”

“I noticed that, too.” she said. “At least twice as many.”

Connor swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “The question is, do we accept that the Lucy who wrote this journal really was the future version of you -- the one you say visited us -- and that she _did_ experience everything she wrote?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She smoothed her hand over the cover of the journal. “For argument’s sake, let’s say that’s true. Does it matter?”

“That rather depends on which theory of reality applies, I suppose. If we’re living in a causality loop, then everything must happen as it did happen. Therefore, you will experience all of those entries in the future and you will eventually write them down in the journal, which you will then go through the motions of handing off, first to your earlier self -- that is, to you -- and then you will eventually hand it off to Flynn in the past, bringing everything full circle. A self-contained timeline tied off with a pretty bow, nice and neat and destined to be repeated; the same decisions made ad infinitum.”

She shuddered and gripped the journal so tightly her knuckles went white. “I don’t believe in fate or destiny. Not any more. Time travel is messy; life is chaotic. Besides, the entries for the missions we’ve already taken don’t quite match what I experienced. And we’ve already made at least two major changes that preclude over half of the new entries from happening as they’re written.”

“The two changes being saving Rufus and losing Flynn?” He looked away from the sudden pain in her eyes and took another sip of his drink. “Yes, well, in that case I’d say there’s a good chance that _that_ future Lucy didn’t write the journal, either.”

“You’re saying yet another version of me could have written it. I don’t understand. How could this--” she raised the journal “--exist unchanged from the journal Flynn had, or exist at all, for that matter?”

Connor finished his drink. “Honestly? I don’t know. Perhaps it really is as simple as you changed the future and this journal is merely an artifact of a defunct timeline. Like the pictures you have of your sister.” He sent her an apologetic look. “Or, if you’d rather, like the upgraded Lifeboat. And don’t think I’m not struggling with that particular conundrum. But their existence is fact, nonetheless.”

“So that’s it? We just accept what’s happened, accept the weirdness and the changes without question? Like we thought we had to accept Rufus’s death?” Her voice acquired a rough edge. “I’m just supposed to accept that Flynn’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

Connor didn’t miss the change in pronouns. Lucy and Flynn had had a connection that the rest of them hadn’t understood, but this suggested something deeper. “Well…”

Lucy met his gaze head on. “Well, what?”

Rather than ask impertinent personal questions he doubted she’d answer, he said, “You said you don’t believe in fate or destiny. A case could be made that we’re experiencing a temporal loop, not a causality loop. The difference is that rather than being destined to repeat our actions unchanged, we could potentially break out of it and create a new outcome.”

“How do we do that?”

“If I knew the answer…” He shrugged. “The unknowable nature of our reality aside, there’s another thing that’s puzzling me. In the time I’ve known you and Wyatt, you’ve never shirked from the truly difficult, heartrending tasks. So why did your future selves dump this in your laps when they clearly could have made the trip into the past and removed Jessica themselves? They’d obviously figured out the solution.”

“They were annoyingly cryptic, I’ll give them that.” A bleak note crept into her voice. “This whole thing has felt off to me since they showed up.”

Connor stared up at the Lifeboat. “Presenting us with the upgraded Lifeboat, while useful, certainly wasn’t critical. We figured out those upgrades once; we would’ve eventually achieved them again on our own.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to do anything that makes us lose Rufus again.”

“Neither do I. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look at the bigger picture. I’ll keep at it.”

“Thanks for that. I doubt any of the others will worry over it.”

“If you mean they won’t worry over Flynn, you may be right. I might not have been his biggest fan, but he didn’t deserve to die like that. And I don’t like being informed that I lived a completely different reality that I now can’t remember. It’s unsettling.” Connor tapped his glass on his chin. “Then there’s the distraction factor. You have enough on your plate trying to anticipate Rittenhouse’s next moves.”

“You mean Emma’s next moves.”

“Emma’s dangerous, of course, but I was referring to your mother and Keynes. They are running the show after all.”

A mixture of shock and horror crossed her face. “Oh god. We’re such idiots. We didn’t think of this and we should have.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My mother and Nicholas Keynes. They’re still alive?”

He raised his eyebrows. “The last time I looked. Agent Christopher managed a couple of raids on Rittenhouse properties, but they’ve stayed several steps ahead of her. Are you saying that’s different?”

“Unforeseen consequences,” she whispered. “It wasn’t just Rufus who died in Chinatown. Emma killed my mother and Keynes, too, and she and Jessica seized control of Rittenhouse. We -- Wyatt and Jiya and I -- accepted that as an unchanged fact that we’d already reported. In undoing Chinatown, Flynn undid everything that happened there, not just Rufus’s death.”

“You’re telling me that Emma eliminated the leadership of Rittenhouse in one fell swoop and put herself in charge?”

Lucy spared him a troubled glance. “It looked like she was setting herself up as the head of some sort of time mafia, rather than actually becoming an Evil Rittenhouse Overlord, as Rufus would say. Profit over world domination is more her style, though I’m sure she wouldn’t be able to resist making changes in the timeline that would be to her benefit. All of that didn’t happen, because we never went to Chinatown. But does that mean that it _won’t_ happen?” She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “God, just thinking about it gives me a headache.”

He stared at her. “It all depends on where Emma was when Flynn changed things. If she was in the Mothership or in the past, then her memories will include the Chinatown timeline. If she was in the present, she’ll only have memories of this timeline.” He hesitated, but felt he had to ask, “Are you sure the solution you came up with to save Rufus was the correct one? I mean, it worked and I’m glad, but...”

She didn’t try to disguise the bitterness in her voice. “Wyatt’s the one who figured it out. He sounded so sure when he told us his reasoning that night; so sure, in fact, that he obviously convinced Flynn. It still seems sound; Rufus _is_ alive. It’s just that we never had the chance to really talk it through.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, looking like death warmed over.

Connor gently took her empty glass and set it aside before she dropped it. “You, my dear, need sleep.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Which might be a bit awkward, given the circumstances. All of your things are in Wyatt’s room.”

“The one at the end of the corridor on the right?” When he nodded, she said, “That was the room he shared with Jessica. I can’t...Is F-Flynn’s room still the one in the far corridor?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll sleep there. I’m used to it.” He raised his eyebrows and she added, “Not like that. We used to sit up late talking and he’d end up sleeping in that chair of his because I’d fall asleep on his bed.” She blinked rapidly and passed her hand over her eyes. “How long before this new-and-improved Lifeboat is fully charged?”

Was she worrying about being ready to follow the Mothership so soon? “With the new protocols in place, I’d say another half-hour, give or take. Don’t worry, it will be ready to go when Rittenhouse makes their next jump. Get some rest, Lucy.”

She nodded. “That’s probably the smart thing to do.”

He watched her walk away and frowned. He had the feeling he’d missed something important.


	2. Part Two

The door to the communal shower opened as Lucy walked past, and Wyatt stepped into the corridor wearing clean clothes and smelling fresh from his shower, his hair still damp. There was a time when seeing him like that would have sent a flutter of desire through her. Now she increased her pace, hoping to avoid conversation. Surely the universe could give her that much?

“Hey, Luce. Got a minute?”

No such luck, then. She stopped and closed her eyes briefly, then turned to face him. “I’m beat. Can this wait until I’ve had some sleep?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Again. About Jess and all. I know I screwed up. I guess I really just wanted to believe it was real.”

“So you’ve already said. What do you want from me, Wyatt? Some sort of absolution?” She thought about Flynn’s letter and made an effort to rein in her irritation. “I forgive you, if that’s what you need to hear. I know you were just trying to do the right thing.”

Something like hope flared in his eyes. “Do you mean that? I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it.” He paused, then said, “You know your stuff is in my room? I guess everyone thinks we’re a couple.”

She almost said, _a couple of what?_ , but bit her tongue at the last minute. “Yeah, I know. I promise I’ll move everything out tomorrow, okay? Get it out of your way.” The sudden desire to scrub away the dirt and grime from the Gold Rush, to be _clean_ , was overwhelming, and she changed her mind about immediately crashing on Flynn’s bed. “I’m just going to get the stuff I need for a shower and for tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

They walked together towards his room. “Sure. Of course. Whatever you need. And, you don’t have to move tomorrow. I mean, that is, I was kind of hoping...”

She tried not to look shocked. There was no way he was thinking what she thought he was thinking. “What? That now Jessica is gone, you thought we could just pick up where we left off?”

“Come on. You know I don’t mean it like that.” Wyatt shrugged. “Can’t we find a way through this?”

Lucy just stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“This isn’t coming out right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d really like it if we could start over and go back to being friends. Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. The sight of the two beds lashed together almost made her want to head right back out again, but she grabbed her old straw tote and steeled herself to root through her things. Wyatt was standing by the door, watching her with an expression in his eyes that made her look away.

Lucy lifted her full bag and said, “I’ve got what I need.”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “After your shower, you should try to get some rest. If you want, I can separate the beds and you can come back here. This is your room, too.” She looked at him sharply, and he quickly added, “For now, at least. We could talk, if you want. Or not. Whatever you want.”

Talk? What was there to talk about, really? This wasn’t helping. “Thanks, but not tonight,” she said, and fled for the showers.

She shoved the chair outside to signal the room was in use, and stripped out of her dusty cowboy gear. The shower, for once, was blissfully hot. Knowing that could change without warning, she quickly washed and rinsed her hair and body. Once she was clean, she allowed herself the luxury of standing under the hot stream, letting the wet heat soothe her sore muscles.

_It’s your room, too._

Except, it wasn’t. She’d never slept in that room, with or without him. They’d left the bunker for the California Gold Rush barely speaking to one another, even after his apology and unwanted declaration of love. Then they’d returned to find Agent Christopher and Connor -- not to mention Rufus -- believing the two of them had been living together for months. How was that for screwed up?

The water turned tepid and Lucy shut it off before it became icy. She dried herself and hung the towel on one of the wall hooks, and began what Amy used to call her potions-and-lotions ritual.

And what did it mean that when she thought of Amy now, she only felt a brief twist of her heart?

As her hands performed the familiar post-shower routine by rote, her thoughts returned to Wyatt. Maybe they could be friends again; she missed her friend Wyatt. But so much had happened, it would take time for them to truly rebuild trust. Right now she had no intention of dropping herself back into that minefield of a relationship as if all was right between them.

The timeline may have shifted but, as with Jiya and Chinatown, that didn’t mean she hadn’t lived through months of the Wyatt-and-Jessica show. That she didn’t remember _everything_ , including how her own feelings had changed.

And how could he be so cavalier about things after what Flynn--

Her hands stilled. She pressed her fists to her chest, pushing against a sudden pain that left her breathless at the thought of Flynn. Why had he done it? She was as overjoyed as anyone to have Rufus back, but it hadn’t been Flynn’s responsibility to take on. Sure, he’d explained his reasons in his letter to her, but damn it, he’d gotten it all wrong.

 _They_ weren’t the ones who had come together and then broken apart. That was the _other_ Lucy -- the one she secretly thought of as _“Tomb Raider Lucy”_ \-- and a different Flynn. At least, she’d thought it must have been them, though it might as easily have been yet a different pair from yet another timeline. It all depended on the ultimate origin of that damned journal.

Her Flynn -- _and just when had he become_ her _Flynn?_ \-- had made assumptions based on words she’d never written and things she’d never done, as if all possible iterations of _her_ , Lucy, must be identical. And, oh god, how was she supposed to keep the various versions of the two of them straight?

Right on cue, her headache returned and it was a doozy. A _wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey_ time-ball of a headache (and wouldn’t Rufus be proud of her for that Doctor Who reference?) that pulsed behind her eyes. She rushed through the rest of her routine, and pulled her damp hair back into a loose braid to get it out of the way. Rummaging through her tote, she found a bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed one with a handful of water from the sink.

She pulled on her clothes -- black leggings and an oversized burgundy sweater -- and slipped her feet into black non-skid flats. Connor and Wyatt were both right; she needed to rest. She grabbed her things and left.

She hesitated outside Flynn’s room, unsure if she was ready to confront whatever other changes might await her in this new timeline. Her weariness finally made her enter, and she slumped back against the door in relief. Everything was still there, just as she remembered, from the bed that was too small for him, to his lamp and ratty old chair and his eclectic stash of books.

It was the near-empty bottle of vodka discreetly tucked away on a shelf that undid her. The same bottle she’d brought with her the first time she’d sought his late night company, though that bottle had been almost full at the time. If she and Wyatt were as happy together in this timeline as the others thought, why had she still been seeking out Flynn?

Lucy dropped her things in a corner and sat on his bed. Her treacherous memory dredged up Flynn’s ghost and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She saw his smile as he welcomed her into his room to share conversation and, let’s face it, the vodka (though he’d rarely had more than one and the amount she drank had gradually decreased during those late night tête-à-têtes). She heard his surprised laugh when she’d said something unexpected that tickled his sense of humor. And she felt his patience the time she’d burst in and demanded the story of how he came by the journal.

With a sigh, she tipped over onto her side and brought her legs up on the bed, curling up around her pain. She wouldn’t sleep, but she closed her eyes and willed herself to rest while she had the time.

She hadn’t been entirely honest with Connor. A course of action had been staring her in the face since they’d returned to the bunker. A course she’d been very careful not to hint at for fear the others would make it impossible for her to implement. Especially since she appeared to be the only one who had even contemplated that it might be possible to save Flynn.

The others were content to let him make what they thought was a noble sacrifice.

Well screw that.

Did she have the courage to do it? To steal the Lifeboat and make a jump by herself? It would be dangerous, but she’d already done dangerous so many times she’d lost count. Hell, she’d faced down her mother and actual goddamned Nazis, so how bad could it be to spend a few minutes in her own timeline? Her heart thudded in her ears.

She’d have to calculate her arrival precisely to allow enough time for him to do what he had to do, but not so much time that he was in danger of having stayed too long. Surely even she could figure out the proper settings on the new autopilot. She’d just have to have faith.

Keyed up, Lucy glanced at the small clock on the table by the chair. The others should be asleep by now, and according to Connor the Lifeboat should be fully charged. She swung her legs off the bed and sat up. Time to go.

The bunker was silent and the control platform deserted. As quietly as she could, she prepared the Lifeboat for travel. Without a support crew, they’d all had to learn the basics and she knew how to decouple the cables from the various chargers and other instruments. Now it just remained to be seen if she could figure out how to get what she needed from the autopilot.

She was seated in the pilot’s seat, intently examining the navigation screen, when Jiya climbed inside, startling her.

Jiya’s perceptive gaze met Lucy’s and she said, “Thought I’d find you here. You didn’t think you were going to go save Flynn without me, did you?”

For one long moment Lucy thought about denying it, then she shook her head. “How did you know?”

Jiya just gave her a look. “Unlike everyone else, I actually remember what happened while Jessica was here. I know you, Lucy, and even though we didn’t talk about it, I know how close you and Flynn were getting. Besides, I owe Flynn more than I can ever repay.” She gestured at the autopilot. “Wouldn’t you rather have an experienced pilot for the precise maneuvering this is going to require?”

Lucy blinked back the tears that threatened. “Are you sure? It’ll be dangerous and there are no guarantees, and you just got Rufus back. And what about your visions? We don’t know how jumping in your timeline will affect you.”

She waved Lucy out of the pilot’s seat. “Yeah, I’m not so worried about all that. I spent three years in Chinatown, doing whatever I had to do to survive. And then when you guys showed up and Rufus died…” She made an abortive gesture with her hand. “The fact that I was right about this, about what you intend to do, means I know exactly how you feel right now. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.”

Rufus leaned through the hatch and said, “And I’m not letting you go without me.”

Jiya narrowed her eyes at him. “Rufus. You can’t just--”

“I wasn’t saying you can’t go. I’ve learned that lesson; I’m not about to repeat it,” Rufus said as he climbed inside and pushed the rolling stairs away from the craft. “I’m just saying, hell no you’re not going without me. After everything we’ve been through -- even if I can’t remember it -- I can’t see either of us jumping without the other, at least for a while. Can you? Didn’t think so. So, what’s the plan?”

Lucy felt lighter than she had in days, buoyed by the relief that she wouldn’t be alone. “I was trying to figure out how long the Lifeboat was in San Diego. Is that possible?”

Jiya nodded. “All the jumps are logged in detail on this baby. It not only lists date, time, and location, it tracks and stores the last few flights down to the picosecond. Give me a sec.” Her fingers flew over the touchscreen and she examined the readout. “Huh. Looks like it was only there for a little over five minutes.”

Lucy heard what she didn’t say. Based on the visit from future Wyatt and Lucy, five minutes didn’t seem long enough for the side effects of the jump to have overwhelmed Flynn. They didn’t have enough data to be sure of anything, though. She refused to worry. “My thought was to arrive while the other Lifeboat was still there, before it returned to 1848. Say around minute four? Then I was just going to wing it. You know, try and find him and get him into the Lifeboat, and return here.”

They stared at one another for a moment, and Jiya nodded. “Right. Wing it. Okay.” She turned back to the autopilot and tapped the touchscreen. “I’m going to program in both the destination and return trip. That way all we have to do when we have Flynn onboard is punch the button to get us home.”

“Thanks.” Lucy turned to Rufus and held out her hand. “I know you and Flynn have had your issues.”

“You mean, like all the times he tried to kill me or have me killed?” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yeah, well, I figure his bringing me back from the dead kind of wipes the slate, you know?”

Jiya glanced at them over her shoulder. “Okay, we’re ready. Buckle up and let’s get out of here before anyone tries to stop us.”

Lucy fumbled with her harness, clicking it into place just as Jiya completed the startup sequence. She held her breath as the universe tried one more time to turn her inside out.

She had her harness off before the rings stopped rotating. She’d never experienced the gut-wrenching nausea the others sometimes had after a trip, but this felt like her stomach was trying to crawl out her throat. She clamped her lips shut to keep from retching and forced herself out the hatch, desperate to find Flynn.

In the end, that was easier than she’d feared it would be. He was curled up on the ground a few yards away from his Lifeboat, bruised and bloody, his body spasming.

She grabbed his arm. “Flynn! It’s Lucy.” There was a thud behind her. “Rufus! Help me get him up.”

Flynn twitched and rasped out her name. “Lucy?”

“I’m here, I’m here. Come on, Rufus. We have to get out of here.”

And then Rufus was beside her, leaning down to pull Flynn’s arm around his shoulders. “I’ve got him.”

“The Lifeboat,” Flynn ground out as they dragged him to his feet. “I haven’t set the autopilot to return it yet.”

Jiya climbed out the hatch of their Lifeboat and said, “I’ve got it covered. Get him strapped in.” She ran for Flynn's Lifeboat.

They staggered the few feet to their Lifeboat and Rufus manhandled Flynn inside and into his seat. Flynn had lapsed into unconsciousness by the time Lucy buckled him in and Jiya returned. Jiya barely waited for them to fasten their own harnesses before she hit the return button. Later, Jiya told her the entire trip had lasted less than two minutes -- one minute thirty-eight seconds, to be precise -- though she’d scheduled them to arrive in the bunker thirty minutes after they left, just to be safe.

Wyatt and Connor were both on the control platform looking worried when Lucy opened the hatch. Lucy smiled but ignored their questions, and ducked back into the Lifeboat.

Rufus stuck his head out the hatch and said, “Hey. We’ve got Flynn. He’s unconscious. We need help to get him to the infirmary.”

Connor blinked and said, “Right.” He rolled the stairs over and climbed up to help lift Flynn out. “How long was he in 2012?”

“Maybe six minutes, tops?” Jiya shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

Lucy exited last, and Wyatt finally lent a hand to carry the unconscious Flynn to the room they used as a makeshift infirmary. By the time he was situated on the examination bed, Agent Christopher arrived.

“Connor called to tell me the Lifeboat disappeared, so I turned around and came back. I see it’s in the bay. Who took it and why? Wait. Is that Flynn?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What the hell is going on here?”

Lucy reached for Flynn’s hand. “It was my decision to try to save Flynn; don’t blame Rufus and Jiya. I couldn’t stand the thought of…” Her words trailed off and she swallowed hard, trying not to worry that he was still unconscious.

Christopher’s expression softened. “You should have told us. We would have planned his extraction together.”

Lucy lifted her chin. “Would we? I didn’t hear any of you suggest going back for him, even though it was an obvious solution.” She shot a steely look at Agent Christopher. “So why do I have the feeling that if I’d behaved and asked permission like a good little Lucy, that something, some excuse, would have come up to prevent us from actually doing it? If you have to punish someone, punish me, but don’t expect me to say I’m sorry.”

Christopher shook her head. “Lucy. I’m not going to punish anyone. What you did was incredibly dangerous, but you--”

Flynn stirred, interrupting whatever else she was about to say. He groaned and his eyelids fluttered open. The shock on his face turned to surprise as he took in his location and the others standing around him. “Then I didn’t dream it. What happened?”

Lucy smiled tremulously. “Hey. You’re awake. Welcome back, hero. You didn’t really think I was going to let you be such an idiot, did you?”

His uncertain gaze touched each of them in turn before returning to Lucy. “Idiot? I’m not sure--”

“You should have stayed with the Lifeboat when it returned to 1848 and not made me come and get you.”

“You came to get me?”

The warmth in his gaze and the husky note in his voice made her stomach flutter. She nodded, unwilling to trust herself to speak.

Connor cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt, but we should really take a look at his injuries.”

Lucy tried to step back, but Flynn held her hand tightly, keeping her by his side. Not that she minded. Rufus, Wyatt, and Jiya backed out of the way in the small space, allowing Connor and Agent Christopher room to work.

Finally Christopher said, “Well, you don’t seem to be seriously wounded. Just some cuts and scrapes, and a lot of bruises.”

“Most of this is from my fight with Jessica,” Flynn said. The look he gave Wyatt was surprisingly sympathetic. “You should know, it wasn’t just random chance that she insisted you pull over where you did that night. A Rittenhouse agent was waiting to meet her at that precise location. That whole scene had been planned, right down to your fight at the bar, though I’m not sure for what purpose. I took out the agent, but Jessica got the jump on me. Nearly shot me with my own gun.”

The blood drained from Wyatt’s face. “Thanks. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a pass on hearing the rest of the details.”

Christopher nodded. “No reason for you to.” She glanced at Connor. “Why don’t you and Wyatt head back to bed? We can all discuss our next move later this morning.”

Connor ushered Wyatt out and closed the door behind them.

The silence stretched until Rufus cleared his throat. “So, just to be clear. Jessica is still dead, Flynn and I are both alive, and none of us are in trouble?”

Christopher’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “Succinct summary.” She glanced at Flynn. “What about the side effects of traveling within your timeline. Did you experience anything we should be concerned about?”

He shook his head and sat up, over Lucy’s soft protest. “Headaches, body spasms. Those happened surprisingly quickly, along with an overall weakness that Jessica exploited. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to go through it again, but I’m already feeling much better.” He glanced at Lucy out of the corner of his eye and then looked back at Agent Christopher. “I did have trouble getting back to the Lifeboat and I think it might have affected my decision making.”

Lucy bit her lip. They were going to have a talk about that. Eventually.

“To be safe, I’ll arrange for the doctor who examined Jiya to come out and run tests on you tomorrow.” Christopher’s expression grew stern and she glared at each of them in turn. “I’ll write this up as a sanctioned op this time. But don’t ever attempt one of these rogue missions again, or I’ll be forced to take action. Are we clear?”

They all nodded and added their ‘yes ma’am’s’ and she sighed. “Good. Jiya, Rufus, you might as well try to get some rest, too.”

When they’d left, she turned her full attention on Lucy and Flynn. “What am I supposed to do with you two? You were both reckless and potentially endangered all of us.” She shook her head. “And yet I can’t help thinking that the willingness to do what you did, to sacrifice for each other and for the team? That speaks to the heart of why you -- and the rest of this crazy band -- are the right people for this job. If we’re going to win, it’ll be because of you. Just don’t do it again.”

Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking. A stern talking to? That was it? Not that she was complaining. She glanced at Flynn, who looked like he was trying not to smile.

He said, “Yes ma’am. Scout’s honor.”

Agent Christopher raised an eyebrow. “You were a boy scout?”

Flynn grinned. “That’s need to know.”

“And I don’t need to know?” she said drily. “On second thought, I _don’t_ need to know. You both look exhausted. I think it’s past time that we all got some rest. There’s no point in my trying to go home now. I’m staying here for the rest of the night, so no more joy riding in the Lifeboat.”

Lucy helped Flynn lever himself off the exam bed. He looked like he’d been through hell. He was filthy from his fight with Jessica; his shirt ripped and bloodied and his pants spattered in blood. But all Lucy could see was the man himself, alive and breathing.

Together, they walked down the empty corridor to his room. Flynn looked down at himself ruefully. “I think I’d prefer to clean up before I try to sleep.” He raised their still-clasped hands and said, “Will you wait? Here, I mean?”

Mutely, she nodded. Where else would she go?

She sat on his bed, and prepared to stay awake until he returned. She hadn’t really thought about what would happen next, mostly because she hadn’t let herself think of the future beyond the need to save Flynn. A need she refused to analyze. But her day felt like it had been decades long and she couldn’t remember when she’d last slept and now that Flynn was back...

Her eyelids drooped and within moments she’d toppled onto her side and was fast asleep, with her legs hanging off the bed at an awkward angle.


	3. Part Three

Flynn didn’t bother putting out the chair while he took his shower; he wasn’t expecting to be disturbed. He realized his mistake when Logan walked in, but at least he’d had the decency to wait until the water stopped running through the overhead pipes. Too bad he couldn’t have just waited until morning for whatever confrontation he had planned.

Flynn wrapped his damp towel around his waist and turned warily to face him, subtly spreading his stance to balance his weight. He relaxed at the lost expression on Logan’s face. Whatever this was, it wasn’t an attack. Softly, he said, “Something I can do for you?”

Logan took a deep breath and said, “I wanted to thank you. I was prepared to go back and--” he broke off, ran his hand over his face and started again, “It was my mess and I didn’t expect you to clean it up. Like I said, I’d rather not know the details, but it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful.”

He was tempted to make his usual snarky response, but Logan’s pain was too obvious. “No one should be forced to have to make that kind of choice. But you should know I didn’t do it for you.”

“You did it for Lucy.” It was a statement, not a question. “Because you thought she and I…”

Flynn nodded.

Logan shook his head slowly. “You know, for a bright guy, you can be really stupid sometimes. I should know. I’ve been there enough times, myself, recently.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to explain that?”

Logan huffed out a breath. “Don’t you get it? You’ve been putting your faith and belief in that journal for so long, you’ve missed the truth of what’s right in front of you. I’ve read it, remember? Lucy -- our Lucy -- is _so_ not the Lucy who wrote that damned thing. Sure, there are similarities; there’d have to be. But what _that_ Lucy experienced and felt and wrote? It isn’t real. Not for our timeline and especially not for our Lucy.”

“And your point is?”

“I’ve been talking to Rufus and Jiya. Lucy was gonna steal the Lifeboat by herself to go save you. Did you know that? And don’t say that she would have done the same for me, because she wouldn’t -- not like that. She would’ve worked with the team to figure out how to make it happen. But for you? She was all in and wasn’t waiting for permission.”

“I don’t--”

“Get your head out of your ass, Flynn. Sure, at one point Lucy and I might have made it work, before I screwed up in more ways than I want to admit. She cares for me -- I know that -- but she’s in love with you, even if she doesn’t realize it yet." A wry smile touched his lips. “And if _I_ can see it, why can’t you?” 

The conviction in his voice stunned Flynn. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I care about Lucy, and I’ve finally accepted that I’m not the one who will make her happy. Maybe you are.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what the future holds. No one does. So, the question is, what are you gonna do about it?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and left.

Flynn’s mind raced, going back over the last couple of years, comparing Lucy in the journal with the real live Lucy he’d been getting to know. The fact that it took Wyatt Logan, of all people, to force him to see the truth was like a sucker punch to the gut. He’d only had the journal to rely on for so long, he’d let it blind him. He’d interpreted Lucy’s interactions with both Logan and himself through its lens and, he hated to admit, through the lens of his own guilt.

He’d come this close to throwing away the possibility of something precious, out of fear that it would never work because the journal said so; that she would be happier with Logan and that it was his misguided right to choose that outcome for her.

He hastily pulled on his sweats and t-shirt, grabbed the rest of his things and headed, barefoot, for his room. His hand shook as he opened his door, hoping to find Lucy waiting inside. 

She was on his bed, fast asleep, her exhaustion evident in her uncomfortable position. His heart slammed against his ribcage as Logan’s words echoed in his head: _“But for you? She was all in and wasn’t waiting for permission.”_ She must have left to find him as soon as the Lifeboat recharged.

Warmth spread in his chest as he stood there watching her sleep. It wasn’t simple physical desire, though that was surely woven into it, but something deeper and more complex. He’d meant what he wrote in the letter; she was his constant, the one good thing in his life.

He dumped the bundle of clothes and toiletries on one of the metal filing cabinets and turned back to study her face. She’d washed away the makeup she’d used to hide the bruises from her fight with Emma in Chinatown, and they were fading into interesting shades of purple, green and yellow. Dark shadows stained the fragile skin under her eyes and her split lip was still healing from the crack she’d taken from Logan’s elbow. In short, she was a mess. And she’d never looked more beautiful.

He knelt next to the bed and cupped her cheek. He slid his hand, feather-light, down her neck to her shoulder and gently squeezed. Softly, he said, “Lucy.”

“Hmmm?”

“Wake up. Just for a minute.” He smiled when she stirred slightly, but didn’t move.

She opened one eye and looked at him. “Too tired.”

“You’ll be stiff if you stay like that. Come on. I’ll help.” He slid his arm under her and easily raised her into a sitting position. He ran his hands down her arms and grasped her hands.

She yawned and opened both eyes. “You’re here,” she said in a tone that hinted she wasn’t quite sure she believed it was true.

Flynn sat back on his heels. “I’m here. Thanks to you.”

“And Rufus and Jiya.”

“Yes, all right. Thanks to them, too, but mostly, I’m given to understand, thanks to you.”

She glanced down at their hands tangled together on her lap. “I thought I’d lost you. Agent Christopher had a report from 2012 of a John Doe found on the beach. It was you.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Hey.” He freed one hand and put a finger under her chin to lift her head. “Do you remember what you asked me in Chinatown?”

Her gaze searched his face. “I remember you said you didn’t give a damn about Wyatt and that wasn’t why you were here.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And you asked--”

“Why _are_ you here?” she whispered.

He trailed his fingers across her cheek, his smile widening as she leaned into his hand. “I’m here for you, Lucy. For as long as you’re in this fight. And when you’re done, I’ll follow wherever you decide to go, for as long as you want me.” Her eyes closed. When she opened them and met his gaze with her heart in her eyes, he found the final courage to say, “I love you.”

She turned her head and kissed his palm. “I love you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “God, I thought I’d never get to say that.”

Flynn cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. It started gently enough, in deference to her bruises, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Lips brushed lips, tongues tangled, and the kiss deepened until they both had to come up for air.

Flynn rested his forehead against hers for a moment, then pulled back. He was running on fumes and his knees ached from kneeling on the concrete floor -- _and wasn’t that a bitch_ \-- and he climbed to his feet. Lucy reached for his hand and he let her tug him down to sit beside her on the bed.

She said, “I know we need to talk, but...”

He tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, and smiled when she yawned suddenly. “It can wait. We’re both more tired than I think either of us realize.”

She nodded, and said diffidently, “May I stay?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” He stood, bringing her with him, and pulled back the covers on the small bed. 

Lucy toed off her shoes, climbed in and patted the mattress next to her. “I think we can manage a few hours together on this thing, don’t you? You’re done sleeping in that chair. I’m amazed you were able to walk in the morning after spending the night in it.”

She had no idea. “It was worth every minute,” he said. He stretched out next to her and eased her into his arms, shifting until they were both comfortable.

“There’s something you should know.”

Looked like they were going to talk after all. He stroked his hand over her shoulder and back, rubbing lightly, enjoying the sensation of touching her. “Yes?”

Her voice was quiet and serious. “My mother and Keynes are still running Rittenhouse.”

Flynn frowned. “How? Oh, of course. Saving Rufus meant there was no going to Chinatown, right? No Chinatown, no Emma on a rampage. Well, we’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

He could feel her nod against his shoulder. “Right.” She was silent for a long moment, then said, “One last thing, I promise. About the journal.”

“What about it?

“It’s just...I know you said you thought the Lucy who wrote it was impressive.”

“As I recall, I said she was _very_ impressive.” He felt her tense, and added, “I’m teasing.”

“You know I’m not the Lucy who wrote -- will write? -- that journal? And can I add just how much I hate trying to conjugate for time travel?”

He snorted softly. “I know you’re not the one who wrote it. And I’m glad. Because while I do think that Lucy was impressive, you are so much more. You’re the flesh and blood woman I fell in love with and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She relaxed against him, and he knew he’d said the right thing. “Promise you’ll talk to me if you ever confuse me with _her_ again, so I can set you straight? I don’t believe my destiny -- or yours -- is written in that damn book; it’s what _we_ choose to make it. Believing in fate is for people who lack imagination.”

Flynn kissed the top of her head. “I’ll remember that, I promise.”

“Good,” she mumbled into his shoulder and yawned. 

He would be forever grateful to _whichever_ Lucy set him on this course, because this Lucy -- _his_ Lucy -- was worth everything he’d been through in the last couple of years. He smiled and let himself tumble into sleep, knowing she was safe in his arms.

For now, the world and time could wait.


End file.
